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But I needed to do this. It had gone on far longer than it should have, and now that I had a promotion on the horizon, I couldn't put it off any longer. At least neither of us had any illusions about the arrangement between us.
“We need to talk.” I kept my tone soft.
“That’s a phrase I haven’t heard in a long time,” he mused.
He told me that he preferred having an arrangement like ours, rather than dating normally, because it was easier for him. No rejection. No stress. No strings. He’d been married before and didn't want to get into something that complicated again. We had an understanding, but it was one thing to know it logically and something else to put it to the test.
“I’ve enjoyed my time with you, but things have changed. I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
He was silent for a moment before asking, “Am I not providing for you well enough?”
He didn't sound hurt, merely curious, and the anxiety in me eased a bit.
“No, no, it’s not that. Like I said, some things have changed, and it wouldn't be fair to either of us to continue.”
I’d chosen to be vague because I didn’t want to explain that I was ending our “relationship” because it put a bad taste in my mouth. What I had with him wasn't like what I'd done in the past. He wasn't a trick I turned for a payout. But he wasn't my boyfriend either. Or my future. Some women would be okay with that, and I wouldn't judge them, or him, for it. It just wasn't what I wanted anymore.
“I understand,” he said finally. His tone was even, but it always was. It was impossible to tell what he was feeling. I suspected that was either a product of his marriage or part of what had ended it.
“You do?”
“Of course,” he replied. “I knew it wouldn’t last forever.” He paused for a moment, then added, “I hate to bring it up, but your rent–”
“I understand,” I said quickly. “And I hope you know how much I appreciate all of your help, both with rent and with Mikala's school.”
“I do. Are you going to be okay?”
I knew he wasn't asking about my emotional state, but rather the bills he'd taken care of while we were together. “I will.”
“Briana?”
“Yeah?”
“If you change your mind, you have my number.”
“Take care.” I ended the call and went back to where Tiffany was waiting.
“So?” she asked as she took my hand and squeezed.
I looked over at her and smiled faintly. “He took it pretty well.”
“That’s good.” She smiled, looking relieved for me. “I’m proud of you.”
If only that were enough to make me feel better. I loved her for it, but I knew I'd appreciate it even more once my heart stopped hurting.
“I’m going to head to bed.” I put on my best fake smile, willing it to travel up to my eyes so that I wouldn’t worry my best friend. She wished me a good night even though her expression said she knew I was still hurting. A moment later, I was in my bedroom, thinking over this change in my life.
Things were going to be a bit tighter without Sinclair's help, but I also felt that I had more room to breathe. The shame I’d been carrying around was lighter, though I doubted that burden would ever dissipate entirely. It was something I’d just have to live with.
Like missing Dorian.
